


For One So Small, You Seem So Strong

by wayward_avenger



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff ensues, Gen, Irondad, Lab days, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter just wants to help, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Peter Parker, Snarky Friday, Thankfully he has his spiderling, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's upset after Civil War, Unresolved Emotional Tension, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_avenger/pseuds/wayward_avenger
Summary: A year after the events of Civil War in Germany, Tony isn't dealing with the events that transpired, well, at all. Peter decides to try and cheer him up in the only way he can think of. Fluff ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

It was Friday.

Peter usually looked forward to Fridays because they were lab days with Tony, but lately it had been different. It had been almost a year since Tony recruited Peter to fight along side him and the months after that had been some of the best in Peter’s life. Peter honestly had expected Tony to be angry and hurt after they returned from Germany. More worryingly, however, Tony had been his usual cheerful self, maybe a bit _too_ cheerful. Peter knew it wasn’t his place at the time to question Tony at the time- they had just met after all and the boundaries of their relationship were still unclear. A year later, however, Peter had grown to pass off Tony’s behavior and began enjoying his company immensely. They would spend hours in his lab, tinkering away at anything that Tony was working on. Sometimes they cracked jokes, sometimes they worked in concentrated silence. Mostly however, the word Peter would use to describe these times was _comfortable_. The two just _got_ each other without even communicating. Tony could tell immediately when Peter had a bad day at school and Peter could tell when Tony had had a stressful day (for whatever reason). While Tony would question Peter about his bad days and try to help him sort through his day-to-day problems, Peter still didn’t feel it was appropriate to reciprocate the help. He would ask, of course. Tony would take a long sigh occasionally and Peter, whether it be his naturally empathic self or his spider sense, always knew something was wrong whether Tony wanted to admit it or not.

“You ok, Mr. Stark?” Peter would ask nonchalantly.

“Always, kid, why?” Tony would shrug, neither of them looking up from their projects.

But lately the mood in the lab had become…_heavy_. It took Peter a few weeks to realize why Tony seemed to be more upset, but one Friday, he finally realized as he looked on the calendar. They were coming on a year since Germany. Tony had not reconciled with Cap, to Peter’s knowledge at least. Lately, any time the name was mentioned by a non-exiled Avenger, Tony would drop whatever he was working on and cough distractedly, trying to brush off the obvious tick.

It was now the weekend closest to the date of the Civil War, as some of the Avengers called it in hushed tones. Peter had gotten a text message from Tony earlier that day, saying Happy wouldn’t be picking him up that day.

_Tony: Gonna have to skip today, kid. Sorry._

_Peter: :( is everything ok, Mr. Stark?_

_Tony: Sure, kid. _

_Peter: Are u sure._

_Tony: Pete, drop it._

_Peter: Tony._

_Tony: Peter._

_Peter: I know its coming up on that date. _

_Tony: Peter, I don’t know what you’re talking about. This just isn’t a good weekend, ok? I said drop it._

_Peter: Tony. Don’t shut me out._

_Peter: Tony?_

He hadn’t gotten a reply since then, and that was six hours ago. He’d be damned if he just let Tony wallow himself away in his lab all weekend. He knew these symptoms. It was the same thing when Ben died. The first year anniversary, Peter had holed himself up in his room, barely spoke in school, and declined Ned’s invites to his house for a few weekends. It wasn’t until Ned had banged on his apartment door that Peter had opened it aggressively, glaring at his best friend.

All it took was for Ned to say, “Peter. I know,” with his face full of empathy for Peter to break down completely. He then realized he hadn’t really processed Ben’s death for a whole year.

Peter entered the building of the Avengers Compound an hour later after webbing himself there to hear FRIDAY’s familiar voice greet him as he walked in.

“Hello, Peter. I have notified Boss of your arrival and he stated that he was not expecting you. Was your meeting not cancelled for today?”

“It was,” Peter said simply.

“Boss would like to remind you that he cannot meet with you today and is very busy,” FRIDAY responded.

“Very busy, my ass,” Peter mumbled.

“What was that, Peter?” FRIDAY asked inquisitively.

“Nothing. Nothing,” Peter replied innocently. “Can you ask Tony if it’s ok if I just do some homework here? He has better couches than my apartment.”

“Certainly,” FRIDAY responded. About thirty seconds later, she replied, “Boss said that is fine, although he did want me to let you know that you are a nerd for doing homework on a Friday night. He also wanted me to remind you that he will be unavailable for the evening, so you are unlikely to see him.”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” Peter mumbled once more.

“I’m sorry, Peter, did you say something? Boss has not programmed me efficiently enough to pick up quiet undertones. Perhaps the vocal range of your age group is something that my system needs updating on?”

“What? No, FRIDAY, nothing. I didn’t say anything,” Peter said exasperatedly. He walked into the elevator and pressed the button for Tony’s lab. He was going to see Tony whether he liked it or not. The elevator did not move.

“I’m sorry, Peter, Tony’s lab is currently off limits,” FRIDAY replied.

Peter groaned internally so he switched to the Avengers common area a few floors above. The elevator slowed to a stop and Peter entered the kitchen area. He flopped down on the couch in the sitting area adjacent to the kitchen, staring at the wall. This was ridiculous. Tony was acting like a child. Although, Peter had to admit that 1- he had reacted this way himself after Ben’s death and 2- Tony had never really told him the full details of what went down with Cap. Regardless, this was going to end. This weekend.

“FRIDAY? Are the air vents off limits?” Peter asked innocently.

“No, Peter, the air vents are not off limits, but I am confused as to why you would want to know,” FRIDAY asked, sounding as confused as an AI could sound.

“No reason,” Peter replied.

He quickly located the nearest grate on the ceiling and eased it off. He hopped up onto the ceiling and slid his way into the air vent. He was going to get to Tony’s lab whether Tony liked it or not. Conveniently, Tony’s lab was more or less directly below the Avenger’s commons, but Peter couldn’t just phase through floors. That was Vision’s department. He took a few turns to locate an opening shaft and crawled around until he was peering through the grate into Tony’s lab. The lab was a mess. There were parts of machinery all over the floor and something looked like it was lightly smoking in the corner. Tony was mercifully looking rather benign, standing while hunched over an Iron Man suit.

Suddenly, Tony gave a huff and a small yell as he threw his wrench across the room, breaking a panel of glass he used to write notes on, bowing his head and rubbing a hand over his face. The sound of breaking glass was welcome, as Peter had jumped so high that he guaranteed that Tony would have heard the noise if it had been quiet. Calming himself down, Peter turned back to the grate and saw Tony take a long swig of an amber liquid in a glass bottle. The bottle was half empty and while Peter didn’t think Tony was drunk, he would be soon if Peter didn’t do something. He had to be stealthy.

He returned to the common area to regroup and make a plan. He had to do this fast if he wanted Tony to stay at least reasonably sober. Dramatic times called for dramatic measures. What would cheer Tony up the most? He ran out of the compound and webbed over to Serpe’s Italian Bakery a few blocks away from the compound. He and Tony always went there on treat days. Tony always got their amaretto coffee because he would say quietly that it reminded him of his mom’s and his grandmother’s coffee. Peter quickly ordered two large coffees and threw in a chocolate chip cannoli for good measure. Before taking off again, he webbed the lid of the coffees shut in order to keep it from spilling as he swung across upstate New York. Picking out one of Tony’s favorite mugs once he returned to the common area, poured in one of the coffee from the to-go cup they had given him, and maneuvered with some difficulty through the vent, now with a teetering cup of hot coffee.

He waited until Tony moved away from his workbench to go and get something across the mercifully large room. Peter silently removed the grate and descended upside down into Tony’s lab, still hanging on by his web attached to the air vent. Before Tony could turn around, Peter had snatched the bottle of alcohol with a web and glided up back into the air vent. He placed the bottle on the floor of the vent, now grabbing the coffee on the saucer he had brought. Tony was still at the other side of the lab, so Peter quickly descended once more, placing the cup and the saucer on Tony’s worktable. He glided up into the air vent as Tony returned to the suit he was working on. He stopped dead when he saw the coffee, picking it up and sniffing it. He took a sip and Peter could see his shoulders visibly relax a little. Tony then put the cup down, crossed his arms, and slowly revolved on the spot, looking around the room.

“Peter, I know you brought this coffee. I told you, not today,” Tony said to nothing in particular, not knowing where Peter was. He didn’t sound angry, but his voice was laced with finality and an assertiveness that indicated Tony was closing the matter. Peter had other ideas. Tony began walking around the lab, looking in different places in which Peter could be hiding. Tony thought that he was actually in the lab.

Peter took his opportunity to web down the cannoli, which he had in his pocket, setting it on the saucer next to Tony’s temporarily abandoned coffee. Tony must have heard the rustling of a certain spiderling because he quickly turned back to where the cannoli now sat. He cocked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Peter could see an exasperated smile dance across Tony’s face, before it was replaced by a sigh and a grimace.

“A fucking cannoli? Really Parker?” Tony spat, his voice harsh. Peter froze. Tony had never called him by his last name, let alone spoke at him in that tone. Maybe he was overstepping after all. Peter sat there, stunned and hurt, when he heard Tony’s voice again.

“Peter, just… just go. Please,” Tony said in a voice that broke Peter’s heart more than the angry tone. Tony sounded so…_broken_. Defeated. Tony let out another great sigh as he turned and walked over to his radio, where he turned on AC/DC, turning up the volume so loudly that Peter didn’t think Tony could have heard him if he were the Hulk now walking through the air vents. Wiping a stray tear from his eye, he shrunk back into the shadows of the vent, returning to the commons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to leave the past in the past and focus on who you have around you in the present, not who you wish was around you from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! Here is the conclusion to this lovely fic request I got!

Peter sat there on the couch in the commons, stunned as to what to do next. Ideas swirled around his head for at least an hour, the last one no more likely to work than the first. He raised his head. He was going to go back there and make Tony talk to him. He would sit there all night until Tony came around. He’d sit there all weekend if he had to. Wiping a stray tear from his eyes, he swung back up into the vent and climbed back down to Tony’s lab. He peered through the air vent to find Tony sitting on the floor, his legs bent and his elbows on his knees, one of his hands holding his head. In the other hand was another glass bottle, this one empty. Peter kicked himself for not thinking that there would be other alcohol around the lab, but Tony had cut down on alcohol from the past, he knew that. Tony was muttering something under his breath, his shoulders shaking.

Deciding it was now or never, Peter opened the grate and hopped down into the lab without a sound. Tony did not seem to know he was there. Peter wasn’t trying to sneak up on Tony, per se, but he was trying to be as quiet as possible. He approached Tony who he now fully realized was crying. Peter sat cross-legged about six feet away from Tony, not saying a word. He’d wait there all night for Tony to notice he was there. He didn’t have to wait long, however. About thirty seconds after Peter had sat down Tony’s head lifted up slowly, and then very quickly, realizing Peter was sitting in front of him.

“Sshhit, Peter,” he gasped in surprise, trying to calm himself down at once. His face regained a stony expression as his head tilted downward, not looking at Peter.

“I told you to go, Peter,” Tony said in a cold voice.

“No,” Peter said simply.

“Excuse me?” Tony said in an incredulous voice, looking up.

“I’m sorry, Mister Stark, but no. I don’t give a damn what you want,” Peter said. He couldn’t believe he was talking to Tony this way, but he had to get through to him.

“I’m not leaving here until you talk to me,” Peter said blankly.

Suddenly, Tony raised the empty bottle in his hand and Peter’s senses half warned him that he was going to throw it at him. Instead, he smashed it on the ground next to him, shattering the glass. Blood began to leak out of Tony’s palm as Peter struggled to remain calm. Tony was crying again, his good hand over his face, his injured hand, hanging off of his knee, dripping scarlet blood onto the floor of the workshop.

Peter got up silently and crossed the room to the medical cabinet in the corner that Tony kept for emergencies. He grabbed tweezers, alcohol, and gauze and walked back over to where Tony sat. Peter hesitantly took Tony’s injured hand gently off his knee and was relieved to find that Tony did not wrench his hand away.

“Peter, j’s’ go,” Tony mumbled weakly.

“Nope,” Peter said simply.

Tony gave a pouty huff as Peter took the man’s hand in his own. Placing a penlight in between his teeth, he gently began to tweeze the small shards of glass out of Tony’s palm. The cut was long but it didn’t seem deep. Good. Tony didn’t seem to be in the mood to take a trip to the hospital for stitches.

Peter’s spider eyes meticulously found various shards of glass in Tony’s palm, only eliciting small gasps from Tony every once in a while. Peter mumbled apologies, but mostly, the two remained silent. When Peter was certain all the glass was gone, he took a piece of gauze and soaked it with the alcohol, gently dabbing it on Tony’s palm, eliciting a sharper gasp and a jump from the man. Peter said nothing. He threw away the alcohol-soaked gauze, returning with a piece of gauze soaked with only water. He dabbed at the wound with that gauze, then with a piece of dry gauze. He took three butterfly bandages, placing them along the gash on Tony’s palm before gently wrapping longer gauze around his hand for protection. Peter knelt there, tending to Tony for about an hour until he finally placed two pieces of tape over the gauze and swept up the glass. Tony had made no effort to move from where he was sitting, so Peter sat down on the ground next to him. He didn’t touch him. He didn’t hug him. The two just sat there as Tony’s tears stemmed after another half hour. After that time, Peter stood up and placed his hands under Tony’s elbows, gently lifting up the older man onto his feet.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly.

The man did not look at him, but stood all the same, swaying slightly as he stood upright. Slowly, like guiding a sleepwalker, Peter guided them into the elevator as Peter instructed FRIDAY to take them to Tony’s floor. The doors opened into his private living room as Peter ushered Tony onto the couch. The man just sat there, looking more defeated than Peter had ever seen him. He walked across the room and came back, placing a tissue in Tony’s hand and a blanket around his shoulders. He walked away once again and came back with three Advil and a tall glass of water from the sink in the bathroom.

“Tony, take these,” Peter instructed gently. “For your hand,” he added. Tony took the pills without a word, finishing the glass in a few seconds. Peter took the empty glass from his hand and repositioned the blanket around Tony’s body. Finally, he came back and sat down next to him.

“Tony,” he began, not really sure where he was going with this.

“When…when Ben died, I shut everyone out. The first year was the hardest. The first anniversary, I was a mess. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that you’re not over what happened in Germany and Siberia. I don’t know what went down after I left and I’m not going to ask you to tell me if you don’t want to, but I need you to know that you aren’t alone. I’m right here and I’m not leaving. It also doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re probably a raging mess of guilt right now for whatever untrue reason. I get that too. I don’t know whose fault it was and I’m not taking sides, per se, but I need you to know that you’re a great man, Mr. Stark. People fight all the time and sometimes there isn’t a correct side. Sometimes, you have to leave the past in the past and focus on who you have around you in the present, not who you wish was around you from the past. You’re a futurist, Mr. Stark. You should know this.”

“Cap was all I had, kid,” Tony said. He had laid his head back against the back of the couch, his eyes closed.

“I’m sure Happy will be thrilled to hear that,” Peter attempted at dry humor. Tony let out an amused huff. A moment later, Peter continued.

“Now you have me,” he said firmly. Tony looked up, staring at the boy with bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t want…Kid, you don’t deserve-” Tony began, but Peter cut him off.

“Mister Stark, I seem to remember telling you I didn’t care what you want and I think I’m old enough to know what I deserve, even though you’re wrong. Mister Stark, I love May, I really do, but being able to hang out with you this past year…like…like a dad would…you can’t imagine what that’s meant to me. If I can give back even a fraction of what you’ve given to me, I’ll do it.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Peter had dropped his head, his cheeks reddening. Had he seriously told Tony that he saw him as a father figure?

“You…you see me as a father figure, kid?” Tony asked numbly.

“I mean, kinda…I guess, I don’t know…forget I said anythi-” Peter stammered, embarrassed now. He was cut off, however, as Tony wrapped his arms around Peter on the couch.

“Wha-…M’ss’r Stark,” Peter mumbled, his voice somewhat muffled into Tony’s shoulder.

“Kid, listen. I’m sorry,” Tony said, pulling away from him at last.

“Mister Stark, you don’t need to-” Peter began.

“Ah ah,” Tony held up a hand. “No, Peter, I was being childish. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

But now it was Peter’s turn to hold up his hand.

“Tony, stop,” Peter said. The use of his first name made Tony stare at the boy.

“You’re allowed to have as many bad days as I am. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to get upset. It’s what makes us all human. But what you _can’t _do is cope with it by drinking your liquor cabinet. You have people that are here for you. Don’t shut us out when we want to help you. Let yourself grieve.”

Tony looked at Peter for a long time, a curious look on his face.

“What?” Peter asked, smiling uncomfortably.

“I just…when did you get so wise, Peter? For one as young as you are, you shouldn’t have to be,” Tony said, somewhat sadly.

“We all go through shit, Tony. I just got a head start. And besides, one of us as to be the adult here…kidding, I’m kidding!” Peter smiled as Tony threw a pillow at him.

“Maybe we just need each other, Mr. Stark. We fill something the other is missing,” Peter shrugged, not thinking much of the comment, but Tony looked pensive, a hand to his mouth in thought.

“I’m glad I found you, kid,” Tony said quietly. Silence.

“I’m glad you found me too, Mister Stark.”

It would be hours before they woke, Peter’s head on Tony’s leg and Tony’s head cocked at an angle on the side of the couch, his hangover headache letting him sleep for the moment, until the sun woke them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Thank you to my mutual who gave me the idea. I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts down below! <3


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